


Just Can't Take You Anywhere, Tommy

by meh_guh



Category: Snatch. (2000)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is a sloppy drunk. And apparently a magnet for people Turkish doesn't want to see this side of Ragnarok. Basically a fluffy Christamas outing because the phrase 'l'air de facepalm' in the Yule Goat letter was too inspiring. A very merry Yuletide to you, specialrhino. I hope this pleases</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Can't Take You Anywhere, Tommy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [specialrhino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialrhino/gifts).



> Now available in Russian http://fanfics.me/fic89485 thanks to Go_and_so :D

'I'm flashing fucking back to Mrs Thompson's year 4 class, Tommy,' Turkish restrained himself with great effort from banging his head on the wall. 'What did you just tell me?'  
'I said that I've found the perfect woman, Turkish,' Tommy propped himself against the wall, grinning drunkenly. 'I think I'm in looooove.'  
Turkish set his expression to Most Unimpressed and stared. Unfortunately, Tommy seemed to be too far gone on the free-flowing champagne to notice. Resolutely not sighing, Turkish scanned the room, wondering who Tommy's 'perfect woman' was. It couldn't be any of the girls by the punch; Tommy's tastes didn't run to the punky, and it was unlikely to be-  
'Fucking hell, Tommy,' Turkish gave in to temptation and slapped his palm against his forehead. 'Tell me you didn't.'  
'Hmm?' Tommy grinned and turned around with all the grace of a tank, and waved. 'Hey you.'  
'Tommy!' Turkish leaned over to hiss in his ear. 'That's Magda!'  
'Nah,' Tommy shook his head. ''S Maggie. Hiya Maggie, this is-'  
'Turkish,' Magda said, perfectly painted lips curving slyly. 'It's been a while.'  
Tommy blinked at her, then turned to Turkish. 'Turkish, I think that's Magda.'  
'You don't say, Tommy,' Turkish folded his arms. 'Hello, Magda.'  
'Merry Christmas,' she turned her head without moving forward, making air kiss noises. 'It's been too long.'  
'Yeah,' Turkish glared at the back of Tommy's head. 'How many years, now?'  
'Well,' Magda put one well-manicured finger to her chin and feigned deep thought. 'Certainly not long enough to forget that favour you owe me.'  
Turkish narrowed his eyes, but Magda just held his gaze, smiling. He sighed, squaring his shoulders. 'What do you want me to do?'

'That wasn't so bad,' Tommy shoved his hands into his overcoat pockets, puffing a breath out to see the cloud in the early morning chill. 'Dunno why you've been avoiding her for so long.'  
'Of all the parties in London,' Turkish stomped towards the car. 'Of all the women at all the parties in London...'  
'What?' Tommy spread his hands. 'All she wanted you to do-'  
'Us,' Turkish corrected grimly, clicking the door remote. 'You got me into this, Thomas Geoffrey, you're following through.'  
Tommy leaned his forearms on the roof of the car. 'Come on, Turkish-'  
'Shut up and get in the car.'

The next morning, Turkish woke to the unbelievably irritating sound of Tommy's phone alarm. He pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the sound, and almost missed the cursing coming from... under his bed?  
He rolled across the bed and hung over the side. Tommy was lying on the floor under the bed, flailing at his phone and failing miserably at shutting the alarm off. Turkish reached over and silenced the phone, bringing it up with him as he lay down again, hands folded on his stomach.  
'Tommy,' he said after a moment's unsuccessful brain-wracking for an explanation. 'What the fuck are you doing in my room?'  
There was a prolonged silence, then the sound of Tommy wriggling his undignified way out into the open.  
'Turkish?' he blinked from the edge of the mattress. 'What'm I doing in your room?'  
Turkish closed his eyes, wondering not for the first time what he'd done to whom to deserve this.  
'Time 's it?' Tommy twisted around, squinting at the dresser, then the headboard, then the wall. 'Had a thing today, didn' we, Turkish?'  
'Go see if you can drown yourself in the coffee maker, Tommy,' Turkish growled, giving Tommy a brief once-over. 'And change into something no one's come on.'  
Tommy glanced at his lap and pulled a face. 'Yeah, OK.'

Magda was waiting at the door when Turkish pulled up.  
'On time, even,' she said archly. 'Will wonders never cease?'  
'Where is she?' Turkish got out of the driver's seat, resting an elbow on the roof of the car.  
'Where's who?' Tommy leaned across the gear stick. 'What did you agree to last night, Turkish?'  
The door behind Magda opened to let an elegant octogenarian out.  
'Turkish, Tommy,' Magda looped a hand through the lady's elbow and walked her around to the passenger door. 'This is my Great Aunt Bobbie.'  
'Where're your manners?' Turkish slapped the roof of the car. 'Give the lady your seat, Tommy.'  
Tommy glared at Turkish's chest and climbed out of the car, gesturing at the door. 'Your carriage, milady,' he turned to step out of the way and froze when a wizened claw sank into his left buttock.  
'It's nice to see the younger generation rising above their lamentable reputation, Maggie dear,' Great Aunt Bobbie said conversationally, squeezing once then laying a soothing pat on Tommy's backside. 'I'm sure these boys will be marvellous company for a day trip.'  
Tommy glanced over at Turkish, whose face had set into a cross between hysterical laughter and his usual Tommy-induced irritation. No help there, he realised.  
'Back at four?' Turkish tilted his chin at Magda, ignoring Tommy's scandalised shock.  
'Make it half past, darling,' Magda air kissed her great aunt and settled her in the passenger seat. 'And stay away from races.'  
'Nonsense, dear,' Great Aunt Bobbie snapped. 'These boys know the proper places to take a lady.'  
Magda rolled her eyes at Turkish and returned to the front door, waving. 'Have fun, Auntie Bobbie!'  
Turkish got in and started the car, peeling away from Magda's house a little faster than necessary. Great Aunt Bobbie twisted to look at him.  
'So, boys,' she rubbed her hands together gleefully. 'What say we head to the pub?'  
'Fancy a shandy do you, love?' Tommy bitched, leaning forward into Turkish's space. 'What are we doing, Turkish?'  
'We're looking after Mrs Denehy-'  
'Oh, call me Bobbie, dear,' she put a hand on Turkish's knee, giving it an approving squeeze. 'Everybody does.'  
'-Bobbie,' Turkish nodded to her as he swung the car into a space outside the Wig and Pen. 'So that Magda has enough time to get the family party organised.'  
Bobbie twisted to address Tommy, who jerked back into is seat like he was attached by string. 'Dear little Maggie doesn't want me worrying about the details or getting underfoot. And then you boys volunteered to keep an old lady company, proper boy scouts I dare say.'  
'Oh. Right,' Tommy shuffled out onto the pavement. 'Yeah. Volunteered?' he hissed across the roof at Turkish. 'What is the old bat on about?'  
Turkish glared at Tommy, and moved around to open the door for Bobbie, lending her his arm.  
'Come on, love,' Turkish led Bobbie to the door. 'Wig and Pen do a lovely fish and chips. What can I get you from the bar?'  
'I'll have a double brandy and soda, dear,' Bobbie's hand snaked around to pinch Tommy's backside when he opened the door for them. 'And then I'll have another.'  
'Right you are, love,' Turkish ignored Tommy's frantic eyebrows and settled Bobbie at a table by the dart board. 'I'll be right back. Keep the lady company, Tommy.'  
Tommy settled reluctantly next to Bobbie, jumping so hard he kicked the table when her hand settled alarmingly high on his leg. Tommy glanced around frantically, but the pub was empty apart from the surly bartender and three secretaries crying at each other in the far corner.  
'So, dear,' Bobbie fished a cigarette out of her handbag and held it to her lips, raising expectant eyebrows at Tommy. 'What do you young people do for fun these days?'  
'Er...' Tommy glanced longingly at the secretaries; even emotional women would be less unsettling than this. 'Er...'  
A lighter materialised in front of the cigarette, as Turkish slid a tray laden with glasses onto the table with his other hand. 'Whatever you like, love,' Turkish said solicitously. 'Think of us like the concierge.'  
Bobbie took a drag and sat back, smirk tugging at her lips. 'Can I treat him,' she tilted her head towards Tommy. 'Like a cabana boy?'  
'Hey,' Tommy seized one of the pints and tried to shuffle his chair further away. 'Sexual harassment’s illegal, you know.'  
'What,' Turkish folded his arms. 'Can't handle one sweet little granny, Tommy? Go find an ashtray.'  
Tommy drained half his pint sullenly and stood up, shooting a scandalised glare at Turkish when Bobbie's hand shot out to goose him again. 'I'm not gonna be able to sit for a week at this rate!'  
'I'll rub some lineament in for you, dear,' Bobbie grinned. 'Be a dear and fetch some crisps while you're up there.'

It's astonishing, Turkish reflects a few hours later, just how much food and liquor one tiny old woman can pack away. Tommy's gone from looking like the cover boy from Shocked Virgins Monthly to a sort of horrified fascination, listing sideways in his chair from his ill-fated attempt to keep up with Bobbie's bar tab. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice Bobbie's hands any more, and it's a few minutes of wrestling with himself before Turkish decides that yes, he will intervene to preserve his oldest friend's virtue from an eighty pound brandy sink.  
'It's just about time, love,' Turkish shakes out Bobbie's cardigan from where it landed on the floor about an hour after they arrived, the heating on high enough even old ladies can feel it.  
Bobbie seizes Tommy's wrist to check his watch and pouts. 'Back in my day,' she pats her hair in a way that makes no difference Turkish can see to how it sits. 'We understood how to be fashionably late.'  
'How late's fashinabubble?' Tommy peers into his most recent pint glass, sighing philosophically when it remains empty. 'Have we got time for a curry?'  
'Or,' Bobbie's eye glints wickedly, hand darting into Tommy's lap again. 'You could be my escort, Tommy dear. How about that?'  
Tommy blinked blearily at her. 'Whassa hmm?'  
Turkish, long an expert in Tommy wrangling, counted down from ten. He got to four when Tommy slid out of his chair and started snoring. 'I'm afraid he wouldn't be very good company, love.'  
'Yes,' Bobbie sighed, tugging her cardigan on. 'He's a bit of a sloppy drunk, your boyfriend.'  
Turkish considered protesting, but only reflexively. Protesting only cemented assumptions.  
'Don't worry,' Bobbie patted his arm in a motherly fashion. 'He's pretty devoted to you. So! Back to Maggie's, then?'  
Turkish, with absolutely no help from Tommy and only a judgemental glare from the bartender, hauled Tommy up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. 'Right. I'll just dump this in the back seat, then we'll get you back to your niece.'  
Turkish felt Bobbie's hand on his arse three times as he wrestled Tommy out of the pub and into the car. He allowed himself a quick grin; this had been much less traumatising than he'd been braced for. Well, maybe not as far as Tommy was concerned, but after managing to ambush Turkish with Magda it was no less than he deserved. And Bobbie was a hellcat.  
'I'll bet you were trouble,' he said approvingly as he held the door open for her. 'Broke a hundred hearts a week, didn't you?'  
Bobbie winked at him. 'Still do if the Seniors' Centre has the right classes on.'  
'Latin dancing and mah jong?' Turkish quirked an eyebrow. 'Bet you own your own castanets.'  
'You should see me work the merengue,' Bobbie said dreamily.  
Turkish repressed a grin and drove back to Magda's.

'Did they give you any trouble, Auntie Bobbie?' Magda raised her eyebrows as Turkish handed Bobbie over. 'Do I need to have words with Turkish here?'  
Bobbie slapped Magda with her purse. 'Oh, tish. The boys were perfect gentlemen, more's the pity. Care to come in for a tipple, Turkish dear?'  
Turkish shoved his hands in his coat pockets and tilted his head towards the car. 'Love to, but I think if I leave Tommy alone he'll either choke on his own vomit or wind up selling himself to the navy.'  
Bobbie gave him a significant look, then with surprising strength dragged him down to plant a kiss on his cheek.  
'Merry Christmas,' she patted his other cheek. 'Look after each other.'  
'Yes,' Magda smirked, tugging her jumper sleeves over her hands and shivering slightly. 'Thank you for today, Turkish. I'll see you around.'  
'Let's hope it's another ten years, Magda,' Turkish tipped an imaginary hat to Bobbie. 'Merry Christmas, love. Maybe Tommy'll drop by your Seniors' Centre sometime if you need a partner for salsa classes, yeah?'  
Bobbie grinned. 'I'll hold you to that, dear. It's Tuesdays at three.'  
Turkish waved, and headed back to the car. Tommy was sprawled in the back seat, probably the most effective and least-needed car jacking deterrent in the whole of Chelsea, Turkish reflected. Tommy rolled over into the foot well, but didn't wake.  
'Well, Tommy,' Turkish said to the rear view mirror. 'I suppose that was less awful than it could have been.'

Tommy woke up enough to stagger inside the house under his own power, and settled himself in the kitchen with the kettle and an entire box of Tetley's. Turkish stayed long enough to be sure Tommy was in no more than his usual danger of setting himself on fire, and retreated to the living room with a bottle of whiskey. He considered finding a glass, then just shrugged. The bottle was cool against his lips.  
After a few minutes, he could hear the sound of Tommy shuffling around. 'I am not providing you with aspirin on principle, Tommy,' Turkish shouted. 'If you challenge the queen mum to a drinking contest, you can just deal with the aftermath like a man.'  
Tommy appeared in the doorway, clutching a mug and swaying slightly. 'Merry Christmas, Turkish,' he said. 'I don't understand how today was my fault, but I'm sorry.'  
Turkish thought about it for a moment, then sighed and deflated onto the couch.  
'Yeah,' he rubbed a hand over his scalp and closed his eyes. 'Merry Christmas, Tommy.'


End file.
